


the care and keeping of kagehira mika

by unhappyrefrain



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ambiguous Relationships, Caretaking, Curtain Fic, Fae & Fairies, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Tea, Werecats, its just fluff right now but i promise there will be plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7891486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unhappyrefrain/pseuds/unhappyrefrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay. So he has a cat. <i>No,</i> he corrects himself, <i>a werecat.</i> A <i>teenage</i> werecat, no more than sixteen in human years, probably around a year old in cat years; a timid, abused, utterly abandoned teenage werecat with strange and beautiful eyes, horrible self-esteem, and a thick Kansai dialect.<br/><i>Now what?</i></p><p>(Or, the tale in which an asocial, withdrawn faerie shut-in meets an abandoned, painfully loyal alley werecat, and finds that there are things more important than being alone and safe:<br/>specifically, a certain Kagehira Mika.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is based off of headcanons and ideas passed around on valkyrieP twitter.  
> ...listen i Know i shouldn't be starting another chapter fic when i still have myosotis to finish, but i need money for the upcoming event
> 
> catch me on twitter @retstars

Today was _supposed_ to be an ordinary day.

Shu was _supposed_ to go into town for the first time in a month, stay low and inconspicuous, pick up supplies and stay away from iron, it was supposed to be _lowkey,_ but the moment he passes the scrawny black kitten with striking mismatched eyes mewling sadly in the alley, all of that falls away in an instant.

He wasn’t expecting to pick up a random alley cat, today. Of all the things that could happen— passing some paranoid, faerie-terrified human that keeps an iron cross in their pocket, having a panic attack in the middle of the crowd, or even just not having enough money to pay for his purchases— this was the last thing Shu expected. But he can’t help it. The kitten is crying, softly, weak from malnutrition, and Shu slings the bag of cutlery, books, and other miscellany over his left shoulder and reaches out with his right hand.

He could just feed it and walk away.

But the cat is so _sad._ It shies, at first, maybe a reflex at seeing an outstretched hand— _oh Gods,_ Shu thinks, _I don’t want to think about that_ — but once it sees that Shu means no harm, it slowly, tentatively, pads forward, nuzzles its little face against his hand, leaving a streak of mud on his palm. It’s endearing, but it’s also dirty, and Shu does not like dirt. Grimacing, he wipes the hand on the cloth bag, and maybe it’s just his imagination, but Shu _swears_ the cat’s eyes droop sadly, as if apologizing for being so _disgusting,_ as if it expects nothing from itself but dirty hands and the propensity to drive people away, and that’s the last straw for Shu. He offers his hand, kneeling, and the kitten walks into the crook of his arm, nestling there so that Shu can wrap his arm around it and pick it up one-handed. The cat slings itself over his shoulder, digging its little claws into his shirt, and drapes comfortably there, purring weakly.

Huffing, Shu stands, checks the entrance to the alley to make sure there’s no one passing to see him rescue this tiny kitten, because oh Gods is that embarrassing and also very conspicuous, and then leaves, the bright late-afternoon sun hitting his eyes. He squints, then looks down at the cat draped over his shoulder, and sees its eyes are already closed. Fallen asleep, just like that.

Shu sighs, almost affectionate, and has to stop the warm feeling that spreads in his heart as he makes his way quietly home.

 

* * *

 

When he shuts the heavy wooden door behind him, the kitten startles from its sleep and makes a sound that can only be described as a squeak. Shu rests a hand on its head, trying to pet and soothe, and the kitten immediately starts purring again, as enthusiastically as its small form can handle.

“Come now,” Shu grumbles, slinging the cat over his shoulder, feeling its claws prick gently at his shoulder blade. The kitten dangles there contentedly, and Shu, very carefully, slides his arm out from under its rump, letting it hold onto him on its own. He has to set up a bath, after all, and he can’t do all that with one hand. Sighing, Shu drops the bag of stuff on the counter of the kitchenette, everything bronze and silver and wood to avoid blistering and other painful effects, and walks into the laundry room, recovering a bronze tub. His cat companion crawls its way up to sit on his shoulder, peering curiously over everything as Shu walks back to the bathroom to gather up the shampoo and comb. Its fur is matted with dirt and mud, and Shu knows he will probably have to comb it out painstakingly, but Shu is nothing if not painstaking, and he is very, very good at precise maintenance work, if his forty or so dolls are any indication.

The kitten makes another squeak in the midst of its purring, as Shu turns on the faucet and the sound of water hitting the metal rings out through the small bathroom. Shu fills it about halfway, just enough to make sure the cat is immersed but it can still stand, then sets it in the bigger clawfoot tub.

“I’m going to have to bathe you, you know,” Shu sighs, as the kitten claws nervously at his shoulder, tries to leap onto the faucet to escape. He manages to catch it as it makes its preparations to jump, holds it dangling underneath its arms and lowers it into his lap. “But I’ll brush you first.”

He swears the cat calmed down just at that, as if it could understand human speech, and it paces around on his lap before lying down. Shu wets the comb a bit in the bath, then gets to work on the mats in its fur, gently wiggling the comb through the tangles, making sure he’s not yanking. The kitten groans a little, but doesn’t move around too much, like it knows this is in its best interests. Ugh, there’s _so_ much mud, and Shu’s hands are already dirty, a little under his nails, but cat comes first for once. He works out the one on its side first, then the mat around its neck, which he knows he can be a little more forceful on since cats have that weird loose skin there. Even Shu knows about basic cat biology.

The cat starts purring _again,_ which doesn’t exactly make sense since its ears are folded back and it does not look happy, but Shu dismisses it as a good sign anyway. He turns the cat over, garnering a little sad trill, but it just lies there as Shu works on the worst mats on its belly and under its tail. He wets the comb again, uses his other hand to rub the knots gently apart before running the fine teeth through the scruffy fur.

When Shu finishes with most of the knots, he picks up the cat under its front legs and lowers the squealing kitten into the water. “Oi.” The cat mewls, obviously not excited about the bath, but Shu keeps it steady with one hand on the back of its neck, splashing water over its messy fur with the other. The moment he lets go to put shampoo on his hands, it scrambles for the side of the tub, but its little claws do nothing but rattle and slip against the metal. Shu gets enough shampoo on his palm to start scrubbing the cat, reaching back to grip its neck again, petting behind the ears to calm it down. The soft rumble starts back up again, it’s purring for a third time, and Shu lathers up its fur, careful not to get any in its eyes or nose. It’s just like petting, only with more water and soap.

The cat finally relaxes, nuzzling its little head against Shu’s wrist as he cleans its chin and chest. Shu can feel the weak yet enthusiastic vibration of its purring against his arm. He massages the shampoo in, very carefully, then cranks the bath faucet on, scooting the tub under it and catching the water to pet it over the kitten’s fur until the soap washes completely out. The kitten keeps its eyes closed, its head down, trying to keep the water out of its ears and eyes and mouth, and Shu brushes his thumb over its cheeks repeatedly, making sure nothing accidentally makes its way in. The water is soft and warm, and eventually all the white lather is gone from the cat’s pitch-black fur, so Shu lifts it out of the tub, puts its feet under the faucet for a second to get the remainders off, and then sets it down on the towels.

Immediately, the kitten rolls over, nuzzling its newly clean wet fur against the white terry cloth, purring as loudly and happily as it possibly can. Shu folds it over its body, patting it dry, ruffling the fur out and then petting it down with his fingers. The cat looks so much sleeker, so much more _beautiful,_ even though it’s still malnourished and weak— ah. Food. He needs to feed it.

Shu dries the cat off, letting it rub against the towel, then pats dry the little pads of its feet and picks it up. “You’re hungry, yes?”

The kitten chirrups in reply.

“I have a bit of fish I haven’t cooked yet… Ah, no, this means I’ll have to go out and buy cat food…”

Shu is muttering to himself as he holds the kitten in one arm, bustling around the kitchen and opening up the fridge to take out a fillet of fish he cleaned just yesterday. (He doesn’t even think twice about the fact that he just insinuated, that against his better judgment and every wish for a peaceful life he has, he would keep the cat.) “You get on my shoulder, and don’t try eating before it’s ready,” he scolds, scooting the cat up so that it can stand on his shoulder again and watch as Shu pulls a thick knife out of the drawer. He lays the fish out on the cutting board, halves it (one for him, one for kitty) and starts to dice one half into edible pieces.

The cat starts to yell incessantly, mewling and kneading at his shoulder, but somehow it’s obedient enough not to jump down and try gobbling it up before it’s done— maybe it’s scared of the knife. It’s not too sharp, since Shu can’t be around tempered steel, so it takes a little sawing to get the fish apart. He’s had to carve his own knives out of bone before, and he doesn’t have the funds to buy silver, not with his tiny tailor shop out in the middle of the forest, inconspicuous and shy and getting barely enough customers to stay afloat, much less afford luxuries like that. His needle is silver, though, and it's the only thing he really cares about. Everything else, Shu can make do.

After cutting through enough sinew to get the fish apart, Shu reaches up for a bowl in the cabinet, and then pushes the chopped fish off the cutting board and neatly into the porcelain dish. His companion squeaks excitedly, purring even louder than before, and Shu kneels to set the bowl down and allow the kitten to jump off his shoulder without getting hurt. It scurries up to the bowl, and starts eating like it's never had a good meal in its life, frantically snatching up little cubes of fish and chewing like the food will disappear from its mouth unless it gets it down in time. Shu can't help but feel a pang of sympathy, and runs his hand over the kitten's back as it eats, making it arch up comfortably into the touch, undulating like a little wave. A wave that purrs. And has mismatched eyes. Okay, he's losing control of the metaphor now.

The kitten is finished before Shu can think, licking its lips and mewing pleadingly up at him for more, and... _and it's not like I like trout anyway,_ he thinks as he stands back up and starts dicing the other half.

 

* * *

 

After the cat has been bathed and fed, it decides it's had enough of being awake for one day, and Shu carries it over to the couch to sleep. He fluffs up a pillow and some blankets, creating a makeshift nest, and the kitten purrs happily (stronger, more rumbly now) as it curls up within, pacing around before plopping down to sleep. Shu scratches behind its ears, affectionately, then walks back to his room.

 _Someone will definitely adopt it now that it looks better,_ he thinks as he settles himself into bed, blowing out the candle. _I’ll let it back out in town and see if anyone picks it up._

But he can’t shake the feeling that there’s something so _wise_ about that cat, something strangely human. It seemed to understand human speech, for one, and even certain social cues ( _it looked sad when it saw me wipe off the dirt,_ Shu thinks, and his heart sinks because he might have _hurt_ the kitten’s _feelings_ ) and Shu has a very bad feeling that if he lets it go tomorrow, if he abandons it again just when it is finally being treated well… He knows that pain, the deep throb that comes with feeling something beautiful and kind and ephemeral, and then being left behind, cold and more alone than before.

He sighs, rolls onto his stomach and muffles a groan into his pillow. This was the last thing he was expecting to happen today— permanently adopting a sad, scrawny stray kitten was not really on his to-do list. Shu wants to exist quietly. He wants to lead a peaceful, mostly solitary life. With the exception of his four closest friends, Shu is content with being alone, undisturbed in his work and unchanging as an existence. He will never grow old, he will never die, and spending eternity chasing dreams that will not come true just seems tiring.

But some company might be nice. Even if it’s just a cat.

He debates inviting Wataru over for tea tomorrow, but the house is still a mess from taking care of that cat, and there’s fur all over the towels and probably on the couch. He hasn’t put away the cutlery yet, and the sweeping also has not been done— everything needs to be perfect when Shu has guests, and this is decidedly not perfect at all. His dear friends don’t deserve to be shown such an unsightly presentation.

But there’s a cat. Wataru likes animals, he thinks. Probably.

He pulls the duvet up over his head.

Sleep does not come easily to him.

 

* * *

 

The orange eye opens first, with a quiet blink, and then the blue follows, and Mika yawns, uncurls from his little ball onto a very soft and very luxurious couch he doesn’t quite recognize. His eyes flick up to the ceiling. _Just as I thought,_ Mika thinks, _I don’t recognize nothin’._

He’s never been in a place like this before. It’s small, but the couch is so soft, that even just sitting on it makes him sleepy. The living room is decorated in a classy, rococo manner, lowlit candles burning behind frosted glass sconces, and it’s so fancy Mika just wants to roll around all over everything, leave his scent everywhere and pretend all of this belongs to him, just for a little while.

Vaguely, he remembers being picked up yesterday. He was patrolling his usual alley for food, dumpster diving mostly, and wandered just enough into the sunlight that someone must have noticed him. Realizing he probably shouldn’t be in a pretty house like this with all the dirt on his fur, he lifts a leg to clean himself, but— oh.

Right.

Mika must have transformed back at some point, because he’s got skin now, and he’s almost as long as the couch if he stretches out. There’s no point cleaning himself like this. He sniffs at his arm— it’s strangely clean, he smells like baby soap, and he feels at his elbow. The dirt is gone, the constant crust of grime he’s collected from months of homelessness and squalor nowhere to be felt or smelled or seen. Whoever took him in must have given him a bath. And his stomach isn’t grumbling at him, so he probably got a good meal, too.

The bad thoughts set in just as the realization hits, that someone picked him up off the streets and was _kind_ to him. _I should go,_ Mika reflexively thinks. _I should prob’ly get out before I end up imposin’ any more. I got a nice bath and some nice food ’n all, so I’ll be set for a month or so. Nobody’s gotta take care of me. Especially not someone with such a pretty house. I’d jus’ end up gettin’ everything dirty, like I always do._

_Stupid Mika. Dumb Mika. Always a useless inconvenience. Gettin’ in everybody’s way. ’S all I’m any good at._

He curls up a bit, as if protecting himself from the thoughts, rolls over— and then falls off the couch, into the painful gap between the pillows and the coffee table. Something falls over, clattering onto the wooden surface, and Mika holds his throbbing head, reaching a hand up to stop whatever it is from rolling off. He looks closer once he has it in his hands— it’s a spool of thread.

Oh _no_.

He bats at it, rolling it out across the floor, clambering up from the carpet and onto all fours as he chases it. And then he’s on his back, clutching frantically at the end of the string, wriggling up against the carpet, when he notices he’s shirtless. Completely naked, for that matter. He hasn’t taken humanoid form in a while, so he’s not really aware of his nakedness until he feels something on his bare skin, but when he remembers, he scrambles up onto his feet, peers around in the darkness to look for something to cover up in.

 _Blankets are fer sleepin’,_ he reasons, pacing over to a bunch of bookshelves, then back to the coffee table. _Books are fer readin’ and maybe chewin’ on. Uhh. What’s this room, again?_ Silently, he tiptoes over, standing nervous at the door to the master bedroom, and creaks it open as quietly as he possibly can.

His sharp eyes settle on the sleeping form in the gigantic bed, rising up and down slowly, and Mika can hear the stuttered breathing of whoever is lying there. It doesn’t sound too peaceful, like they’re having a nightmare, but Mika can’t afford to comfort right now, he needs _clothes,_ so he slides over to what he thinks is the dresser and grabs what looks and feels like a lacy nightgown. Gods, it’s so _soft,_ he doesn’t deserve this, something dirty and disgusting like he is, but whoever is sleeping shifts and turns, and Mika doesn’t have the time to look for something different. Gripping it in shaking hands, he darts stealthily from the dresser, not exactly closing it or the door behind him as he leaves.

Once he’s safe and back at the couch, he wriggles himself into the nightgown, feels it silky-soft against his skin and almost whimpers as he settles back into the couch.

_This ain’t fair. Whoever’s livin’ here… they don’t need me. I don’t deserve this._

But Mika has a place to rest just for tonight, and it’s warm and comfortable here, and that prickling self-hate fades into self-indulgence, and then into sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Shu wakes, the first thing he notices is the open dresser.

Immediately, his mind jumps to paranoia. _A burglar? Did someone break in just for my clothes? That’s a little ridiculous, but I wouldn’t blame them… Wait, did I close the bedroom door? Am I just misremembering? Maybe I really did leave it open last night. Maybe I am simply overreacting…_

But all this comes to him under the assumption that he is still living alone in this house. Which is quickly denied by the sleepy drift of yesterday’s events into his mind, like secrets from the bottom of a well.

_The cat?_

_Did I leave the door open in case it needed something? Then what about the drawer? Cats can’t open drawers, can they? Is it sleeping in there? What if there’s hair all over my clothes?_

He sits up, looks across the room into the open middle drawer of his dresser. No telltale black hair, from what he can see. It’s somewhat of a relief, but this still does not answer his question.

_Ah, my nightgown is missing._

That is an entirely new question. Frantic, Shu darts out of the door, feeling wings strain against the silk fabric of his shirt, and stops when he is confronted to the very answer to all of them:

A boy of about sixteen, messy dark hair and twitching cat ears, blinking curiously up at Shu from where he crouches on all fours, batting at the spool of thread he left on the coffee table the other day. Startling eyes— one orange, one blue. And wearing a certain, instantly recognizable nightgown with lacy hems.

Shu’s wings beat so hard they hit the doorjamb, as he jumps back with a high, startled yelp. He hovers for a moment, slumps back against the wall, still staring at the scene in front of him, trying to make some sense of it all. Well. He supposes he’s heard the tales at court before. There _are_ many supernatural creatures in this town, after all, and he’s certain a werecat wouldn’t be out of the question, but still— _why?_ Why _Shu?_

He suddenly feels anxious, unprepared, and his knees threaten to buckle, but instead he clenches his fists hard at his sides and shouts, against his better knowledge, “Mon Dieu! _How_ did you get in here!?”

The boy flinches back, suddenly cowering, bringing his hands up to his eyes reflexively. Shu’s arms lose their tension, and he sighs, about to offer an apology, but the boy’s hesitant reply comes first.

“Uh… y’let me in?”

So _foreign_ , Shu thinks. It’s not as if he hasn’t encountered faeries from Kansai before in the courts, but there really aren’t a lot of them, and Shu had almost forgotten where that accent is from. “I know,” he sighs, exhaling, letting the tension out of the rest of his body. “I was startled, I wasn’t thinking…”

“Wazzat ‘mondyuu’ thing ya just said at me? Never heard it before,” the boy giggles, visibly relaxing a little once Shu’s affect softens.

“It’s _French,_ you imbecile,” Shu can’t help but snap. Ugh, not this again, he _wants_ to be kinder, especially to this boy— cat— _thing_ that looks like he’s only received abuses all his life. “I… I’m sorry, I…”

But the boy seems to brush it off well enough, shrugging as he picks up the spool of string, looking at it like he’s never seen something so fascinating in his life. Ah. Said string is all over the carpet, dirtied and unraveled and wasted. What a nuisance. “You did this, did you not?” Shu sniffs, pointing down at the mess of thread almost indistinguishable from the Persian rug.

“I… yeah,” he admits, his tail twitching. “Fell off the couch last night, ’n knocked it off the table, so I started messin’ with it, you know how cats are…”

“And now it’s all over the floor,” Shu grimaces, turns away. “Such a mess. That’s important thread, you know. I cannot get it back now, it’s dirty, can’t be used for my work…”

“Sorry,” the boy mumbles, does a full bow, forehead pressing against the carpet. “Won’t do it again.”

( _He says this like he’s assuming he’ll get to stay, like he’s already sure, that even though he’s caused nothing but trouble for this newly cold, exasperated-looking man, he’ll be forgiven and loved and taken care of. Wishful thinking, he knows, but if something can keep his heart relatively lukewarm in the face of such a harsh winter, he’d do anything._ )

“Pick your head up,” Shu huffs, turning back to the boy, gazing down half-condescending, half-pitying. “You’ll get your forehead dirty. Impurities get trapped in the carpet no matter how thoroughly you clean.”

“Mm,” he says, getting back onto his knees, then flopping onto his stomach and placing his head in his hands, tail gently flicking as he toys with the spool. Shu watches, a little confused as to how the simple item can be so _interesting,_ but then again, this _is_ a cat.

“ _And_ you got into my dresser last night,” Shu continues. “But I suppose it’s better than walking in on you naked. I didn’t expect you to have that sort of decency, but all the better, I suppose…” Okay, he _is_ a little miffed about that; the paranoia and panic from this morning could have been avoided if the boy had just wrapped himself up in blankets and asked for clothes when Shu woke up, but it’s better than nothing. Regretfully, Shu can’t seem to get anything resembling a compliment out without it being wrapped in a more pointed insult.

“I might be part cat, but I still know human stuff,” the boy offers, one ear perking up. “Humans are weird about seein’ each other naked. I know ‘bout that.”

“What _else_ do you know about humans, I wonder?” Shu questions, voice a little harder than he’d like. He attributes it to a welling of rage inside him, a little part of him that hates the fact that someone could possibly do this kind of damage to this poor creature. “That they are unkind, and cruel?”

The boy goes still. “That too, I guess,” he answers, bowing his head. “Y’talk about humans like you ain’t one ‘a them, though. Well, I guess it’s ‘cause y’were nice enough ta fix me up…”

“I’ll have you know I am not human.” Shu feels a sudden surge of anger at even just being _compared_. He _hates_ humans. Such dirty, hateful creatures, always fighting amongst themselves and hurting and killing and destroying everything they touch. Needing such vulgar things as food and water every day— no, every few hours— to survive. Pitiful and ugly and imperfect. “Don’t you ever compare me to such disgusting things again.”

“Ohhhhhhh.” The boy makes a loud, long noise of understanding. “That’s why ya didn’t seem too surprised when y’found out I was a werecat. Wait, don’ tell me yer a were too?”

“No. Faerie,” Shu explains, gesturing widely to the kitchen, no iron to be seen. “Honestly, you’re a dull one, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty dumb. Jeez,” the boy says, turning sadly away, the droop in his voice audible. “Yer much nicer when y’think you ain’t talkin’ to another person, huh?”

That _hurts,_ but Shu’s not ready to admit it. “How insolent,” he dismisses, as even as he can, but he hopes the boy didn’t really notice the slight crack in his voice. Bile rises bitter in his throat, because it’s _true,_ Shu hates people, he thought he was taking home a cat but this cat _is_ people and he’s not ready for the slew of miscommunications he’s apt to make when confronted with someone who can talk _back._ It hits too sharply, too deep to ignore, and Shu’s defensive cruelty kicks in hard. “I took _care_ of you, you worthless creature, and _this_ is how you repay me?”

The boy goes completely silent. Worried, Shu looks over at him, and realizes in horror— he’s crying. Soundlessly, but there are tears on his face, dripping off his chin, and he sniffles, rubbing his wrists over his eyes, making sure he’s not getting any of it on Shu’s nightgown, as if he knows he’s already caused enough damage.

“Y-Yeah,” he says, voice shaky and wet and _lonely,_ “yeah. I’m a bad kid, I know it. I should go.”

The spike of defensiveness in Shu’s chest fades at those trembling words. He’s _internalized_ this, obviously, he’s been convinced he’s nothing but trouble his whole life, and Shu’s heart _sinks._

“H-Hate to ask, ’n all, since I’ve jus’ been a big burden to ya, but d’ya have any food I can take with me?”

“Come here.”

Shu levels his gaze with the boy’s, breathing in and out to keep himself calm as he immerses himself in those mismatched, tear-filled eyes. He’s _hurt_ this child, he’s made him _cry,_ and now he has to face the regret head-on, drilling into his head that he _can’t_ miscommunicate, can’t mess up again. Not like this, not with someone so vulnerable, who _needs_ someone, anyone, _even someone like Shu,_ to take care of him.

He holds out his hand.

“I said, come here.”

This time, the repetition is quieter, gentle, a plea rather than an order. The boy still shies, shifting uneasily, leaning forward and then shrinking back, as if changing his mind halfway through the approach. But something changes in his eyes. Shu isn’t giving up on him.

“Please.”

His voice is barely a whisper, now.

The boy sniffles, stands up weakly on obviously shaking knees. He stands, and hesitantly takes his first step towards Shu, clutching at the sides of the nightgown. Shu doesn’t even know what he’s offering, what he meant when he held out his hand, he doesn’t know what he’s doing and now this sad, abused werecat boy is stumbling towards him and—

—and Shu can’t do anything but open both his arms.

The boy lands with a soft thud against Shu’s chest, burying his face into his shirt, not even holding, just leaning. Just crying, and Shu gingerly lets his arms circle around his shaking shoulders, lets a hand come up into the mess of raven-black hair.

“I didn’t mean it,” Shu assures.

“What y’did last night… Thas’ the first nice thing anybody’s done fer me since I was born,” the boy whispers. “Nobody’s ever shown me that sorta kindness.”

There’s a silence, as Shu holds him.

“Do you have a name?”

“Kagehira. Name’s Kagehira… Mika, my first name’s Mika, but I don’ like it.” Mika huffs a sad laugh, then finally, rests his arms around Shu’s waist, nestling closer. “…D’ya hate me now you know I’m not just a cat?”

“No,” Shu reassures him, with the first rationale that comes to his mind: “I won’t have to buy as much cat food if you’re human half the time, no?”

He doesn’t even notice the impact his words have on Mika, or what they truly mean— Mika bursts into another round of sobs, clutching at Shu’s back, short, choked wails pouring out into his shoulder.

“A-Are y’gonna k-keep me, then?”

_Stupid Mika. Dumb Mika._

But Shu barely has to think about it before he nods. His hand rests in Mika’s hair; an affirmation, a blessing.

A homecoming.

 

* * *

 

After he’s able to cry all of it out on Shu, Mika blinks the remaining tears from his eyes, sniffles a bit and steps back, gingerly tapping Shu with one finger.

Shu looks Mika up and down. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice tender now, quiet as to not spook him too badly.

“Uh… ‘M gonna go back to bein’ a cat for a while,” Mika says, drumming his fingers now. “Feel like a nuisance, so I jus’ wanna curl up for a li’l while and not be… so big ‘n in the way.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not in the way,” Shu sighs, but offers an awkward pat on Mika’s shoulder. “Ah, and you must be hungry, do you usually eat as a cat or…? I have just enough energy to throw something together for dinner, though I myself am not so hungry…”

“Nah, y’don’t hafta, I’ll jus’ be a dumb cat so ya don’t need to make anythin’ in particular, jus’ some fish.” Mika laughs a little. “Uhh, transformin’ might gross ya out a li’l bit, it’s weird and stuff, so y’should probably look away or?”

Shu debates this for a second, then shakes his head. “Such things interest me, after all. If it makes you uncomfortable, however…”

“Not really,” Mika admits, shrugging. “Jus’ don’t like people’s reactions bein’ all grossed out. As long as y’don’t mind, I don’t mind.” With that, he flashes a wide, toothy grin-- little baby fangs-- and Shu watches intently as Mika bends over, as if to touch his toes, and then his bones _shift,_ making a painful-sounding cracking noise as his arms shrink and his knees morph downwards into the haunches of little cat feet. Then he’s on all fours, back shortening, grimacing and poking out his nose a little until his jaw shifts and his skull just _flattens_ itself, elongates a bit, and Shu almost wants to look away because Mika looks like he’s in _pain_ and Shu doesn’t like that, but there’s something fascinating about the way he’s able to change so suddenly. Even for a centuries-old faerie like Shu, the sight is unfamiliar, magical.

Of course, now that Mika’s frame is adjusted, now he’s shrinking, and soft ( _soft! he did a good job!_ ) black fur grows in like a time-lapse, and-- oh. Now Mika’s so small that the nightgown he was wearing has fallen in a pile around him. He doesn’t see any of the other transformations too well, because Mika is hidden in the fabric; just a little shifting black shadow through the baby-blue silk. But then a squeak, a trilling meow, and Mika stretches, pokes his head out of the nightgown to breathe, tail curling above him as he opens his little mouth in a decidedly _big_ yawn, and Shu relaxes. He doesn’t look like he’s in pain; in fact, he’s sleepy, Shu can tell, and he has to remove the nightgown, shake Mika out of it gently, because the very next moment Mika has flopped over onto his side and is purring contentedly.

“Does that tire you out?” Shu kneels to pet Mika’s silky fur, wondering out loud. Mika rolls himself next to Shu’s knees, offers a sleepy chirrup and a nuzzle. “Ah, I still have some fish left over, I just remembered…”

But by the time Shu tries to stand up, Mika’s tiny body is already limp and heavy against his hand-- he’s fallen completely asleep. Shu chuckles affectionately, a gentle smile pulling on his lips.

 _And he’s still purring,_ he thinks, petting Mika’s head, scratching the unbelievably soft tufts of fur behind his ears. Slowly, as carefully as he can, he lifts the dozing kitten off the carpet and into his arms-- Mika’s startling eyes crack open, making a little questioning rumble in his throat, before his eyelids grow too heavy again and he relaxes, back to sleep in an instant.

Shu brings him to the couch, lets Mika down gently into the remainders of his nest from last night, tiny body so limp he melts into a heap of kitten when he touches the velvet cover. Undisturbed, innocent, and Shu strokes his head again, feeling the vibrations of Mika’s purrs already growing healthier and more substantial, until he gets up to work on one of the commissions he’s been given, dusting off his hands of any remaining cat hair before he picks up the needle.

Okay. So he has a cat. _No_ , he corrects himself, a _werecat._ A _teenage_ werecat, no more than sixteen in human years, probably around a year old in cat years; a timid, abused, utterly abandoned teenage werecat with strange and beautiful eyes, horrible self-esteem, and a thick Kansai dialect.

_Now what?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lists and teatimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE WAIT I TOLD YOU IT WAS COMING  
> not sorry for the watashu

He doesn't invite Wataru over for tea the next day; he's too busy cleaning the house in a manic burst of energy, maybe to get it all straightened out for his new roommate, maybe to relieve the building anxiety that coils tightly in his chest and makes it hard to breathe. Shu straightens out every blanket, fluffs every pillow, reorganizes his entire sewing room and even refolds his clothes. All the while, Mika prances around the house in cat form like he's lived there forever, jumping on every chair, sofa and bed he can possibly reach, and then rolling around on it until it smells enough like him. Between these bouts of activity he hurtles from one room to the next, making small growls, chirps and trills as he runs, as if talking to himself, and Shu is finding it _quite_ hard to concentrate when Mika is so close to running headfirst into a leg of furniture and cracking his tiny head open.

"Kagehira!" he finally snaps, turning around from where he's been putting away the porcelain dishes, and Mika freezes in place, large mismatched eyes widening even _more_ (Shu didn't know they could _get_ any bigger!) before he bows his head and then flops over onto his belly, wiggling on the carpet. "Kagehira," Shu sighs again, gentle this time, then sets down a particularly fragile bowl and walks over to the rug where Mika is rolling. "You need to be more careful, are you even looking where you're going?"

Mika offers a resigned trill, then rolls back onto his side, little claws digging into the carpet, kneading it to comfort himself. Shu reaches a hand out, then hesitates, not quite trusting himself yet to handle such a fragile being (dolls are one thing, but Shu doesn't feel quite worthy of petting Mika yet, he still needs to make up for how badly he scared the poor thing before...) But Mika contentedly stretches his paws out towards where Shu's hand is drawn back, as if trying to pull him back in, and those fascinating eyes blink slowly, and Shu gives in, running a gentle hand through the soft black fur on Mika's side. Mika immediately starts to purr, nuzzling his face against the side of Shu's forearm, happily dozing on the carpet in the middle of the floor.

"You were just scampering around like a natural disaster of some sort, and now you're half-asleep?" Shu huffs a breath of half-laughter through his nose. "You really are a strange one."

At that, Mika makes a small "rrruu?" sound, raising his head just enough to signal Shu that this is also a good petting spot, and Shu begins to scratch behind his ears. The fur here is soft as any luxury fabric he's ever felt, thin hairs densely packed into little tufts, and Shu finds himself fascinated with all the different textures of Mika, all the places his hands find solace in petting. Mika's eyes flutter entirely closed, and his limbs are still reaching out for nothing as he dozes, apparently unaware that he's in the middle of the carpet and dark enough to blend in and in danger of being stepped on by an unwary foot. Shu scoops up his wayward boy, hesitantly at first, but then pulls him a bit closer as he cradles the purring bundle of kitten in his arms and moves him over to the (newly cleaned) sofa, spreading a blanket that he had just folded and gently setting Mika down on it. Mika is floppy with sleep and doesn't seem to notice, but Shu knows perfectly well it's just a matter of time until he's awake and up to more shenanigans. _Kittens need to sleep to grow, don't they?_ Shu is glad for it, really, since it halves the time he has to spend worrying over a very active and _very_ careless cat.

Thankfully Mika sleeps long enough for Shu to finish up with kitchen organization and start preparing lunch.

Which is exactly when he realizes he has no real kitten supplies.

 

* * *

 

"Cat food, litter, separate bowls for food and water... A collar? No, I can make one myself, I'd rather him wear something nicer than a cheap store-made one..."

Shu paces back and forth across the living room while Mika sleeps in the alert way cats learn to do, one ear perked up and eyes closed only lightly just in case. The thought of Shu making him a collar gives him warm fuzzies— Shu making him anything, really, makes Mika want to flop over and purr for hours.

"He needs clothes, too. I can do that as well, but what about toys, does he need cat toys? Or human toys? Or—"

Shu pauses, then whips around, eyes narrow and suspicious.

(Apparently Mika had inadvertently made some sort of noise when he heard Shu say he could make him clothes.)

"Are you awake?"

Mika groans and stretches.

"I need to figure out what supplies I have to buy for you, come help." Shu turns away again, scribbling on some sort of notepad, and Mika mewls quietly before burrowing under the blanket and preparing for a transformation. He can't communicate complex requests when he's just a cat, after all, just things like "food" or "play with me," and he hopes at least the blanket covers him enough for some sort of decency before he curls in and lets himself shift.

Shu hears the sound of shifting and cracking joints before he sees anything. Mika's paws, stretched out from under the blanket, uncurl into human fingers and then lose their fur, the black softness flattening and melting into lighter human skin, and the shape under the blanket expands until it barely fits, and then until it doesn't. Shu looks away before he can see any particularly embarrassing areas of skin, and Mika yelps and unfolds the blanket the rest of the way to cover himself.

"Ugh, sorry... So embarrassin'," he whines, curling into as small a ball as possible. "Can ya get me somethin' to wear real quick? Anythin' really."

Shu stands up wordlessly and hurries into the bedroom to pull out an oversized ruffled pajama shirt and boxer briefs from the dresser. He tosses them over to the couch, eyes still averted.

"Ah, much obliged," Mika chirps, before happily wriggling into the shirt and briefs. "So sooooft... Didja make these?"

"A good century ago, yes," Shu sighs. "So of course I messed up the dimensions of the shirt, I was more of an amateur..."

"Woah," Mika marvels. "Talk about vintage clothes, huh?" And then it sets in. "Wait, yer _more than a hundred?!"_

"About five centuries old, truthfully, but I don't look it," Shu admits. "This house has had to change over the years, but quite honestly? I really haven't."

"Uh, no kiddin'. Ya look eighteen." Mika just stares. Then something hits him, and Shu can see it light up in his eyes. "Ohhhh... _right_. Yer a _faerie_."

"We've gone over this, you ridiculous creature," Shu huffs, but doesn't push. He rips a piece of paper out of his notebook, then sets it down on the coffee table, pats it to beckon Mika to his side. "But for all intents and purposes, I am permanently eighteen. Either way, come here and tell me what it is you'll need while living here."

Mika nods rapidly and springs off the couch. "Uh huh!"

 

* * *

 

Shu's list is neat and detailed, complete with little empty boxes to check off as each task is finished. Mika's is a different matter; he had gotten as far as _cheap_ _cat food (wet)_ and _ball of inexpensive yarn_ before his mind had begun to wander and he started to doodle candies all over the page.

"Show me your list, Kagehira," Shu prompts. Mika shifts his eyes back and forth.

"Uhh... can I just tell ya out loud?"

"Fine, but what could possibly be wrong with—" Shu reaches over and tugs the paper from Mika's hands. "...I take it this means you require candy."

"I was just daydreamin' about it," Mika whines, and paws at the paper, trying to retrieve it before Shu can examine it even further. "But yeah, I looove candy! It don't have to be expensive or anythin', I can barely eat fancy stuff, just cheap hard candies are fine..."

"Well, I can allow it," Shu shrugs. "But I'll have to monitor your consumption, and you can't carry them around, you'll eat too much at one time and rot your teeth."

Mika pouts.

"Don't give me that face," Shu warns. "'Ball of inexpensive yarn'... I suppose this could work, I did meet you as a human while you were playing with my yarn."

"That was so embarrassin' I wanna _diiiie_ ," Mika groans, collapsing over the table.

"Yes, quite. Kagehira, why do you feel the need to add 'cheap' and 'inexpensive' to every item you request?"

It's a genuine question, but it doesn't make it any less startling to Mika. "Uhh... why wouldn't I? I don' wanna be too much of a burden, 'n all... Plus fancy stuff would jus' make me feel kinda weird. Like it's not fer me, y'know?"

Shu's heart sinks a bit. Sure, he may not be in the best financial condition at the moment, but Mika deserves better than scratchy yarn and byproduct-filled food. He deserves silk and lace and gourmet meals, and while Shu isn't about to just _say_ that, he can't help feeling like Mika should give himself more credit. After an entire life in poverty, he really does deserve much more.

"Whatever burden you may be," he finally says, (because God knows his heart hasn't softened quite enough to reassure Mika that he isn't a burden when he, quite frankly, can be,) "I chose to take you in, and I chose to treat you better than you have previously been treated. Whatever I buy for you is 'for you.'"

"Nnah..." Mika turns his face up to look at Shu, and the look in his eyes is genuinely astonished, filled with hope and fear, blurring a bit with tears. "A-Are y'sure? I mean, I can live off anythin' really, y'don't hafta go all out..."

"You need to gain some weight," Shu huffs, pinching the skin on Mika's waist— barely a layer of fat between his thumbs. The boy is so malnourished Shu can see his ribs through where the white shirt is pulled taut over his sides. "Healthy weight, may I add. Just eating snack foods forever will ruin your energy levels and stunt your growth."

"But I..." Mika opens his mouth to protest, but Shu's gaze is so sharp and assertive that he backs down, loses the will to fight. If Shu is actually going to spoil him and help him get healthier, who is he to deny him? That'd just be ungrateful, and if there's one thing Mika knows about his feelings for Shu, it's that he can never be grateful enough. "Nnah, I guess. I dunno anythin' about keepin' myself healthy, so I won't mind if ya keep my diet in check. As long as y'let me have candy sometimes, 'n all."

"Cat owners are _supposed_ to look after their cat's diet in the first place, are they not?" Shu rubs his temples. "Don't say it like I'm doing you some sort of favor. It is a _responsibility_."

"But nobody ever fed me before, so..." Mika trails off, his eyes cast down, voice quieting suddenly. Again, the severity of Mika's situation hits Shu in full— _nobody ever fed him before? He's had to scavenge all his life?_ — and he feels a pang of emotion like a stake through his chest. "So it _is_ kinda like a favor, to me," Mika finishes, ears drooping a bit as his hands fall to his lap under the coffee table and he flattens himself out against the wooden surface.

Shu doesn't say anything; he doesn't know how. Instead, he reaches over and pets behind Mika's ears, and even his human hair is softer here, and Mika whimpers and then begins to purr. It's a strange sound to hear from a human, whatever percentage human he may be, but the vibrations of Mika's body encourage more pettings, and more pettings encourage Mika's eyelids to flutter and then close.

"Don't fall asleep on me, now," Shu scolds. Mika yawns, the sound suspiciously resembling a _nyaaaah_ ~, and blinks his eyes open.

"'S yer fault for pettin' me so much," he groans. "If y'want me to stay awake, y'can't just pet me whenever ya want."

"Fine, then I won't pet you at all," Shu huffs, crossing his arms. Mika whines sadly and rolls his head from side to side on the tabletop, stretching his arms behind his back before finally taking his chin off the table and sitting up.

"That ain't fair either..."

Shu hums noncommittally, still examining the paper dotted with doodles of assorted hard candies. "Life isn't fair, Kagehira."

"I know _that_ ," Mika retorts, "I've been livin' in garbage dumps my whole life."

"Mm, and I was exiled from my homeland and forced to watch humans maim and kill each other in pointless wars for centuries, for no reason other than the Emperor didn't _like_ me. So I daresay we've both had our share of unfair life experiences." Shu shrugs, ruffling Mika's hair nonchalantly, before standing up to end the conversation. "Now then. Shall we make dinner?"

Mika doesn't respond. It's only when Shu turns back around that he notices why— the boy is staring up at him with big curious eyes, quieter than Shu has ever seen him in human form, as if waiting for him to continue the story. Shu averts his gaze, not quite ready to tell _that_ one just yet, but he can feel Mika's eyes still on him and the silence is starting to make him anxious.

Which is the exact moment that Hibiki Wataru chooses to invite himself in with a veritable shower of glitter and rose petals.

Shu is so startled that he leaps back a good few feet, wings frantically beating against the fabric of his linen shirt— but it's nothing compared to Mika, who is so taken off guard by the sudden intrusion that he hides under the table and shifts back into cat form, trembling softly under the pile of soft clothes he's just transformed out of.

"Wataru! How many times have I told you to stop appearing in the _middle of my living room!_ "

Wataru looks around, a slightly amused expression on his face, the corners of his lips turned up in that knowing smile. His eyes settle on the clothes lying under the coffee table. "Oya? Shu, my dear friend, you've left some dirty clothes here, that's quite unlike you..."

He reaches to pick them up, and Shu reaches to bat his hand away. " _Don't_ touch them," he snaps, and Wataru fake-pouts.

"How cruel. Do you really think me that dirty?"

"Nothing of the sort, I just..."

"Or are you hiding something, old friend?"

Shu sputters, then falls silent. Apparently Mika picks that time to emit a helpless mewl from under the nest of clothing, and Shu's heart softens. Wataru quirks an eyebrow. "Is that a—"

"Cat, yes, that's a cat," Shu sighs, embarrassed. He crouches to reach under the table and pull Mika out of his soft fabric trap, lifting the wriggling kitten up by the underarms and then cradling him gently, slipping his other arm under Mika's bottom. "Wataru, meet Kagehira, I found him on the street. Kagehira, this is Wataru, he's a bit of a nuisance but he means no harm."

Mika presses his face into Shu's chest, apparently still very startled and timid. Shu can't blame him— he's been mistreated his whole life, of course the sudden spectacle and the loud voice would freak him out. Wataru coos, reaches a hand out but hesitates. "What a treasure," he breathes, his voice quieting now that he sees the trembling kitten in Shu's arms. "He looks so afraid, though... Will he let me pet him?"

Shu looks down at Mika, who raises his head shyly, blinks in interest now that Wataru is mostly quiet. "He may, if you're gentle. And _don't_ yell, he startles quite easily, as I've found," he adds, sighing and reaching a hand down to scratch behind Mika's ears.

"Ah... let's see. Little one?" Wataru finally extends his hand entirely, places it under Mika's nose for him to sniff, familiarize himself with the scent of roses and sweet water. Mika looks curiously up at him, eyes wide, and Wataru gasps, muffling the sound in his other hand. "Shu, those _eyes_! Good taste, as always..."

"I didn't choose him, he chose me," Shu huffs. "But yes, isn't he beautiful?"

Mika closes his eyes, leans forward a little more to place his chin in Wataru's hand, and starts purring.

"Oh, he's so precious," Wataru coos, obligingly giving Mika the requested pettings, scritching under his chin. "Are you sure you got him off the street? He's wonderful, I'm bewildered as to why someone would abandon this child..."

Shu doesn't give Wataru the obvious answer— _he's a werecat that everyone must have considered a monster_ isn't the best way to lead Wataru to the glaring truth— but he sighs, forgoing a reply in favor of a tired shrug. "He's quite a handful when he's not being held, but I don't see how that's any different from any other cat his age."

"I suppose we'll never know, will we..." Wataru trails off, seemingly disappointed in his lack of a clear answer, but Shu gets the impression he knows more than he lets on. "Though I'm glad you've found yourself a companion, finally."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Shu gives Wataru a sullen look. Wataru laughs, like a clear bell, and throws a handful of petals into the air, startling Mika— Shu has to pull him closer to keep him from jumping out of his arms and scurrying away to who-knows-where.

"Simply that you deserve more than another century of isolation, of course! I've loved you for so long, it breaks my heart to see you shutting yourself away..."

"Don't just say it like that," Shu grumbles, averts his eyes. Sometimes Wataru really is too bright for him.

"...And it truly is cause for celebration, now that you have relearned what love can do to a person!"

"I don't know _what_ you mean—"

"Shu," Wataru says, his tone suddenly serious. "I haven't seen you touch a living creature so gently, or smile so genuinely, since you met Natsume."

Wataru's words strike Shu somewhere tender. It's true, he hasn't felt so ridiculously endeared to another sentient being since the day the little demon ( _incubus, more precisely, but Shu doesn't often think about that_ ) charmed his way into the seelie courts and was escorted out and introduced by Wataru to the rest of his friends. Of course, Wataru still makes him feel a glimmer of warmth, brings a reluctant smile to his face every so often, and so do the selkie and vampire— he pretends to simply tolerate them, but the other four oddballs, as the Emperor had called them, are the only modicums of light and companionship in his otherwise isolated existence.

 _Until Mika_ , he thinks, defeatedly. Because Mika makes him kind, turns his hard shell into some sort of brittle transparent glass— turns his touches gentle, makes him vulnerable in ways he hasn't let himself feel in a long time, and it's only been a few days. There's something about Mika that has him protective, has him already turning soft, and he doesn't want to admit it, but— whatever kind of love this is, it certainly... _is_. Wataru _knows_ things, he knows almost too much about Shu for his own comfort, and he can tell when something has changed, so...

"Is... it really that noticeable?" Shu glances down at the sleepy, purring ball of fur in his arms. His wayward child, who is just as lonely as he always was. Mika trills, turns over and stretches, then rights himself again, blinking slowly up at Shu. _I've become soft,_ he thinks.

"Perhaps only to me," Wataru assures him. "But it's enough. Your happiness is my happiness— the happiness of the world, of all creatures, you see~"

"Yes, yes. The all-loving Hibiki Wataru," Shu repeats, faux-bored. "Ugh, speaking of which, when are you going to finally finish off that wretched Emperor, it's been centuries and I'm _so_ tired."

"However long it takes a natural immortal to die of sickness, and all," Wataru shrugs. "Don't say such things, you know royalty has a long lifespan."

"Remind me again why you put up with him at all?"

"Someone has to keep him in check, and his poor advisor has been going unheard, so naturally I am the only other person suitable for the job..." Wataru sighs, long and affected. "He's getting _better_ , you know, he's granted freedom to a number of humans who were lured in unfair Light Court hunts."

"Only because you said so."

"He _likes_ me, and I'm not about to squander the opportunity to change the court over some personal grudge." Wataru hums, reaches out to pet Mika again. His tone is oddly stable, firm and unembellished. "Enough of that, Shu. You have every reason in the world to hate him and so do I, but as long as he's not bothering you I can manage."

"Fine. If anything, I can live with that," Shu huffs, but drops the subject. "You invited yourself in, so I didn't have time to prepare anything, but... would you like a cup? We have much to catch up on, after all."

"Ah, how generous! How hospitable, as always! Of course, of course, do you need any help, I have a few blends on hand in case you wanted something different..."

"I'm in the mood for a Lady Grey, if anything, let me check the kitchen... Hold onto Kagehira for me. Or let him rest on the couch, if you'd like." Shu shuffles Mika's limp, sleeping form out of his arms and gently into Wataru's, who cradles the kitten like his own child. Wataru looks down at Mika in his arms, clearly infatuated, and moves to the couch to sit down, taking care not to jostle Mika too much.

"I'll care for the child, let me know if you need anything," he calls to Shu, who is rummaging in the pantry. Shu spends a few seconds without replying, and then pokes his head out.

"We've run out, do you have any—"

"Of course I do! Your Hibiki Wataru is always prepared!" Yet even Wataru knows to keep his voice down around a sleeping kitten. "It's in the left pocket of my coat, come over here for a magic trick~"

Shu sighs and puts the copper kettle on the stove.

 

* * *

 

"A werecat. Is that so?"

Wataru doesn't seem fazed. At all. In fact, the raised eyebrow and quirk of a smile on his face indicates to Shu that he may have been aware all along.

"I only found out after I took him home and woke up the next morning to find a boy on his back on the carpet, playing with a ball of yarn, in one of my nightgowns." Shu gives an exasperated sigh, drops his head, and then adds emphatically, "I didn't _know_ he was more than just a cat!" As if it makes his decision to take in a stray any less sensitive.

"And now you're pleasantly stuck with a lovely cat that can talk back to you." Wataru grins. "Quite a turn of events, hmm? It could very well be fate..."

"I'm not sure what kind of fate that would entail, but this world apparently does not want to keep things simple for me."

"It truly is fate, then, isn't it?" Wataru hums happily, takes another sip of the fragrant tea. "Destiny has led you to companionship— to love! Let us sing, and let us dance..."

"Not with the cat on your lap, we won't," Shu deadpans.

"Ah, true." Wataru looks down— Mika is curled up safe and secure as anything, as if he hadn't just met Wataru while half-asleep an hour ago. _He's easily trusting,_ Shu thinks, and feels a pang when he realizes that may be why he had been treated so badly. "Then let us save the celebrations for another time, and settle on a toast—"

"Wataru, no—"

"To the power of love! ☆"

Wataru's voice is enthusiastic, yet tender. Considerate in its volume, for the first time in a very long time. His eyes sparkle— Shu can understand, now, the appeal of giving your very life force to have him as a muse.

( _He supposes he's always understood it somehow, when Wataru looks at him like that._ )

Shu gives in, soundlessly raising his teacup, and allows himself to smile before he downs the Lady Grey to the very last, golden drop.


End file.
